


==> Kankri, indulge your servant

by CollarsAndCurses



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, But Mostly Smut, Chubkri, Emperor!Kankri, Fluff, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Fushcia!Kankri, Jade!Cronus, M/M, Oral, PWP, Some plot implied, Xeno, bloodswap, its implied at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: Emperor Vantas makes time in his busy schedule for a little relaxation with his favourite jade blood.





	

‘Servant’ is a little too harsh of a term, you think. Yes, Cronus has been given orders from the Empire to barely allow you to lift a finger (much to your continued frustration - you are ten sweeps old, two of which you have spent as Emperor, not some helpless wiggler). And yes, that collar around his neck bares your sign, burning gold and deep fuchsia, matching the bracelets he’s now carefully removing from your wrists as he sits next to you on the platform (even though he is taller and as emperor you should be standing, really).

Oh Gosh, he has such soft hands, you need them on you, _now_. Tangling in your hair, clasped around your horns, tracing the luminance of your skin, under your clothes…

Ahem. As you were saying, Cronus may be your servant in name, but you do not see him as such. He is your friend, a loyal one, in spite of his unsavoury reputation in your youth. He has grown into himself and his duties, as of late. Which is a blessing, both for your sanity and for the good of the Empire; male Jade bloods are rare as it is, let alone those who can breed like a mother grub.

“Vwhat next?” He asks, eyes cast down as his fingers skate over where your jewellery once sat.

“Bodice,” you reply.

A smile quirks Cronus’ lips. He reaches behind you for the clasps, putting your faces close enough to feel his breath as you close your eyes.

His mouth is warm, tongue running over your teeth with practiced care. Yes, Cronus is far more to you than a mere servant. You may not have always gotten along, but he stuck with you during Ascention, in spite of the intense scrutiny it put him under. He even had no idea of his reproductive status until then - needless to say it was quite the shock.

But he put up with it, for you. And in return, you made him the second most important Troll in the universe. It was only then that you officially took him as your mate, but you think the feelings had been lingering for some time.

You sigh once you’re freed from your prison of royal garmentry, finally able to breathe without the worry of ripping expensive fabric. Cronus’ hands follow the cloth as it slips down your arms, then your chest, pooling around your waist.

“Next?” He whispers against your lips.

You wordlessly guide him to your hips, urging his fingers under the waistband of your waterproof shorts. He’s smiling when you kiss him again and you smile back. That is, until you move onto your knees and discover the… Situation, between your legs. Ah. Right.

You’re thankful that Cronus stops moving completely when he feels your body tense.

“You alright, Kan?”

You manage a nod, “Yes, I’m just a little…” you pause, shifting the slightest bit to confirm that yes, your non-waterproof panties are indeed soaked. Your cheeks flush hot. “Uncomfortable.”

You wish you didn’t react like this in front of your Matesprit. Cronus has seen worse, obviously; this isn’t exactly the first time the two of you have been intimate. After all, he was the one who introduced you to self-pailing at the embarrassingly late age of eight and a half sweeps. He said you should know how to please yourself before you let him try - although you’re not ashamed to admit that he is infinitely better than you in that department, and neither is he.

“Vwant me to help out?” He’s already teasing the fabric down when you nod.

Oh goodness, it’s all slick and sticky and disgusting. You can’t believe you let yourself get into this state before he even really touched you.

Cronus, meanwhile, smiles wider than ever at your obvious arousal, regarding your unsheathed bulge as if it’s a heartfelt gift.

“Looks like you'wve made a mess,” he says, leaning forwards to peck a line of kisses from your collarbone to earfin. “Don’t vworry, chief, it’s my job to clean up after you, right?”

You swallow hard as he teases your neck gills between his lips.

“Yes, of course,” you say, keeping your voice composed to ‘play along’ whilst also answering his subtle inquiry of consent. You can’t help but adore the way he does that.

“Then sit tight and enjoy the ride, your highness,” he purrs.

You flush deeper, all the way out to your fins and across your chest. How can he always make rediculous comments like that sound so- so _seductive_?

He holds you up with one hand, helping fully strip your bottom half with his other. You don’t even want to know what your poor pants look like when he tosses them haphazardly onto the floor with everything else. He sets you down for a moment, holding your hips as he reclines onto his back, sliding under you as much as your platform will allow before urging you closer, closing the distance until your knees are either side of his head.

Your pusher thumps, the pulse echoing in your ears like your rapid breathing is mirrored by your gills. Cronus pats them down softly, and you relax as much as your quivering muscles will allow. You practically feel queasy, like you used to when you thought about things like this - things you ‘weren’t supposed’ to want, were _told_ not to want - when you were younger. It’s ridiculous.

Why do you always get so nervous? You love letting him do whatever he wants to you, exploring your body with more confidence than you’ve ever dared to have. Honestly, you should be used to this by now; Cronus can barely keep his hands off you, even in public.

You brace yourself on the headboard with a shaky arm, then pin your squirming bulge to your stomach as Cronus eases you down within reach of his mouth.

He’s gentle with you, so, so gentle, and yet you still gasp at the first brush of his tongue on your skin. It follows the drips of pre-material down your inner thighs, leaving warm trails of saliva that make you shiver. It’s almost as if he’s _actually_ trying to clean you, stopping agonisingly short of where you really want him to touch before his head dips down again for another lick.

Although, you fear his efforts may be somewhat… Counterproductive, as it were.

You look down when he next moves back for air, equal parts revolted and so horribly turned on to see his chin dripping pale pink. Your fingers twitch around your bulge, then squeeze before you can think better of it, sending a buzz through your nerves and drawing out a moan as Cronus _finally_ runs his tongue over the folds of your nook.

The unease you felt is overridden by pleasure, your pan no longer focussing on the stupid rules drilled into you as a mere Heir. _You_ make the rules now, you’re the Emperor and you want this more than anything, you want _him_ more than anything, regardless of what other people say.

Attempts at muffling the next outburst fail, as do your efforts to resist stroking your bulge in time with Cronus’ licks. He hums and presses his mouth to the bottom of your sheath, sucking as he moves down and- ah- oh God, that noise, it’s awful. And yet it feels utterly fantastic, making you whine and your hips stutter forwards, chasing the sensation.

Then just as soon as his warmth is there, it’s gone. You open your eyes - when did you close them? - and find him gazing up at you, face glistening pink and pupils blown wide. You’re both breathing heavy, taking in each others scents that flood the air in a desperate attempt to attract, to seduce. Not that either of you need that, but it does help set the mood better than those awful scented candles land dwellers use.

“Fuck, you taste so good, babe.” His eyes rove hungrily across your body, stopping on your face as he gives you a lilting smile, sharp teeth poking at his lower lip. “But I bet you’d feel ewven better.”

“ _Yes_.“ The word comes out as a growl that scares even you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stutter quickly, “I didn’t mean-”

You cut yourself off as Cronus shakes his head and moves back to sit up, wiping his face on someone’s discarded clothing.

“Nawv, you’re alright,” he says, not showing a hint of fear. “Ain’t my fault I’m irresistible.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and you can’t help but smile, rolling your eyes but snorting out a soft chuckle all the same.

“So, do you vwanna…?” He fills in the last part by pulling you towards him by the waist, stopping just short of your chests touching.

“Yes,” you tell him, softly this time.

For a few breaths he just gazes at you, his beautiful, bright Jade eyes like emeralds set in gold, before leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. You sigh, releasing your bulge so it can rub against the squirming tent in his pants and freeing up your arms to wrap around his neck.

He lifts his hips and kisses you harder. Then everything goes sideways and suddenly he’s leaning over you instead, your back cushioned by velvet and silk. You try to follow when he pulls away, then realise how silly that is and flop down onto the cushions.

“This okay?” He asks.

You nod, “yes.” A few more for good measure, “Yes, absolutely, wonderful, perfect.”

Cronus grins and begins undoing the fastenings on his vest and pants. Oh right, he was so busy undressing you that he forgot to deal with his own clothes. You help somewhat, but your fingers are trembling so much that you only manage to clumsily tug down his trousers before deciding to let him handle the rest.

Wow, was he always this quick at stripping? You guess you’ve never actually _watched_ him, specifically.

He’s naked and kissing you again before you can think about it enough to get embarrassed. Your back arches when his bulge twines with yours, thinner and smoother, sending hot sparks up to your stomach and back again as it mirrors the movement of his tongue.

Something hard pushes on your collarbone, and when you realise it’s the collar, you can’t help but whine. It means he’s yours; in name, in sign and in heart, body and soul. He’s given you everything and you want nothing more than to return the favour, show him you feel the same, although you hope he already knows.

You remember the jade ring adorning your finger, and cup his cheek so you know he’ll feel it, the only material thing that remains on your body. There’s nothing that could make you take it off. It’s a promise, that he’ll never leave you and you’ll never leave him. You think it’d near kill you if either of you broke it.

Cronus pulls away to suck a hickey onto your shoulder, and a whispered “Please,” slips out from between your tingling lips.

His reply is to mark the rest of your chest - where your clothes will cover, at least - and reach down to separate your bulges, being sure to give yours a squeeze that makes your toes curl, before guiding his towards your nook.

Every breath makes a noise as Cronus’ warmth pushes into you, twisting with each inch. You may have a ‘sea monster of a tentacle’ as Cronus once described your bulge, but your nook is surprisingly average; if Cronus was any larger, this would probably come with more than just a faint sting.

As it is, you happen to get a certain, uh, satisfaction, from feeling his hips pressed flush against your rear, his bulge curling inside you and rubbing all the right places. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his back, one hand snaking into his hair to grip between his horns.

The last coherent sentence your pan manages to construct, is that his hair is incredibly soft, so he must have skipped putting any product in it, most likely for your benefit which is incredibly sweet and something you wish he did more often.

Then Cronus gives a shallow thrust and you roll your body against him, and all you can think about is how hot his skin is as he works into a rhythm, or the way he rubs his palm over the curve of your ass and then grips, not hard enough to leave a mark.

Messy kisses are broken by gasps and squeaks, moans getting louder and shorter as your breaths turn into ragged panting.

Your back bows with each squirm of Cronus’ bulge, changing the angle until he finds that one spot and then yes- oh yes.

“The- ah! Th-there!” You manage to tell him, and _fuck_ are you glad you do.

He props your hips up with an arm around your back, keeping you still as his pace picks up and his free hand begins paying attention to your bulge. Yes, oh Gods, you love the way he rubs the fins down the side. Your thighs are so tense that it must be at least a little painful for him, but if it is he doesn’t show it.

“Come for me, baby,” his breath tickles your earfin and sends shivers down your spine. “Showv me that pretty colour.”

All you can do is nod with a desperate trill as that familiar heat prickles across your skin, gathering in your pelvis until something gives and your whole world is white and black and all the colours in-between, and you’ve _definitely_ given Cronus bruises but everything is buzzing with too much pleasure for you to care.

Tears run down onto your fins, the membranes flared and quivering, throbbing with your pulse, so loudly that you barely hear Cronus groan your name. His movements still with one last jerk forwards and he holds you in place against him, flooding you with his material, deeper than anything else can reach.

The euphoria of being filled is almost like a second orgasm, something primal inside you that screams how right this is, how this is what you were made for, no buckets or mother grubs, just you and your mate and his slurry heating you from the inside out.

You come down from your high a shaking, crying mess, but a satisfied one - if a little disheveled. Or maybe _very_ disheveled, judging by how sticky and sweaty you feel.

You wince as Cronus' bulge retracts from your over sensitive nook, your own already back in its sheath after drenching both of your lower halves, and some of the duvet, fuchsia. You think this might be another one for the incinerator. Damn, and you liked this pattern too.

"Okay, Kan?" Cronus asks, easing himself down beside you with an arm slung over your waist.

"Yes," you croak, clearing your throat as you turn to face him. "I love you."

He wipes your tears with a smile, eyes locked on yours as if you're all he can see. "Lowve you too." Gods you simply adore the way he says 'love'.

You snuggle up to his chest as the beginnings of a purr rumble in your thoracic cavity, rubbing your face into the gorgeous velvet skin over his muscles. He curls his whole body around you, holding you close and purring back like an engine, pressing your softness against him until not a thing could slip between you.

Yes, Cronus is not your servant. You love him, more than any other thing or being, inside and outside your reign. Regardless of what your useless advisors say, about him only being tolerated to produce a direct heir, or stop others from doing the same. In fact, if the rumours about jade bloods are true, you're planning to keep Cronus around for a _very_ long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> (FYI, yes, Kankri is planning to turn Cronus into a rainbow drinker and no, he probably won't feel bad about it.)


End file.
